


A Late Night

by danwrites



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, NSFW (possibly), and jefferson gives good massages, hamilton needs to take better care of himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danwrites/pseuds/danwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Do you... well... I mean... I could give you a massage?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Late Night

It was 10pm and Jefferson was still in work. He’d been working this damned case full time for a week now, and with the court deadline so close, he was forced to work overtime. Unfortunately this meant that he was spending considerably more time with Alexander Hamilton.

Hamilton was brilliant. He was intelligent, hard-working, and even Jefferson could admit that he was handsome. He was the ideal colleague, unless you had a hopeless crush on him.

Jefferson was 28, and honestly he felt childish in admitting his infatuation with the smaller man. The two couldn’t have had a worse relationship. They constantly argued, sometimes forcing their boss to separate them. They were both as loudmouthed and arrogant as each other, and yet Jefferson could not shake him from his mind. He would love to hate Hamilton. It would make things easier for everyone in the small law firm. It had now been several months, and the intensity of his feelings had not faded.

His strategy for the past few months had been simple. He would avoid Hamilton at all costs in the office. This would have been easier if Hamilton wasn’t so goddamn demanding, constantly asking for favours and looking over his shoulder to correct his work. Jefferson was not a religious man, but there was no doubt that he had prayed for the feelings to disappear. Yet here he was, sat opposite Hamilton at a desk littered with papers, feebly watching the man work in awe. The two worked in near silence. Jefferson honestly just wanted to go home, which drove him to work hard and to ignore the beauty sat before him. He was failing.

Jefferson knew that Hamilton did not take good care of himself. After seeing the man reach for his third dose of painkillers, he was beginning to worry. 

“Is everything alright?” Jefferson inquired, watching as Hamilton shrugged softly, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ve been hunched over for too long - my shoulders hurt,” he mumbled, meeting Jefferson’s eyes for a split second. Jefferson had no reply to this. He knew that overworking would eventually kill Hamilton, and it would be a lie to say that it didn’t bother him. He found himself unable to focus on the work in front of him, instead finding himself staring at his own hand.

“Do you… well… I mean… I could give you a massage?” 

The words had escaped his mouth before he had a chance to think. Hamilton’s eyes snapped up to his own, eyebrows raised, questioning. Jefferson was frozen in the spot, still processing what he’d just said.

“I- I guess… sorry, that’d be nice.” With that, Jefferson perked up, nearly tripping over his chair in shock as he moved towards Hamilton. He assumed position behind the man, noting just how tense he was. Hamilton turned to face him, embarrassment obvious in his expression.

“Just carry on,” Jefferson instructed, creating a facade of confidence - he was just as embarrassed as Hamilton was. The situation was awkward, but Jefferson had to admit that he enjoyed the power he held over Hamilton, hands rolling deep circles into his shoulder muscles. He worked his hands up the smaller man’s spine, feeling the tension leave him. It was strangely mesmerising to watch Hamilton relaxing underneath him, gentle breaths catching in his throat as Jefferson hit a sensitive spot.

He was content with the quality of his massage until he heard a gentle moan from Hamilton. Jefferson knew it was wrong, dirty, but Hamilton had abandoned his work and was instead tilting his head backwards into his touch, demanding more. He wanted to say no. He desperately wanted to smack himself, remind himself about how this was Hamilton, his colleague. He didn’t.

He leaned into Hamilton, letting hot breath fall onto his neck, undoing his hair tie and letting hands run through soft waves. He was loving this, and so was Hamilton, judging by the profanities pouring from his throat. He placed his lips on Hamilton’s neck, feeling his pulse pick up, his breath hitch, his hands trembling, his -

A pronounced cough filled the otherwise silent room. Jefferson backed away from Hamilton at lightning speed - stumbling over himself as he absorbed his surroundings. His boss, Washington was leaning in the doorway.

“Sir I-”

“Save it, Jefferson. Next time keep it in the bedroom though, poor Madison has to sit in that chair tomorrow.” To say that Hamilton was blushing would be an understatement. His cheeks were glowing, eyes growing wider by the second in realisation of what had happened. Jefferson was absolutely certain that he’d left earlier that night, leaving him and Hamilton alone - obviously this wasn’t the case. 

Washington turned to walk away, muttering inaudibly under his breath. 

“I- I guess I’ll see you tomorrow,” Hamilton faltered, clearly mortified by what had happened between them. Jefferson simply nodded, still not quite understanding the events of the last minute. He knew one thing for sure - Hamilton would be the death of him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream at me on my tumblr, dan-writes! I'm taking prompts there to practice my writing skills.


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